December 31, 2002

December 30, 2002

SFMOMA

Body Design demonstrates the collaboration of technology and the human form. As we passed the 'Heat Seat' which works on the same principal as those bad sweatshirts of the 80's. My friend commented that we would no longer have to guess who 'dealt it'.

Architecture+Water gives us a peek into combining structure with the Earth's surface. There's a building called The Blur building that shoots jets of water outward all the way around the structure, so that it gives the illusion of a cloud of fog. You have to see it to understand it better.

December 29, 2002

Can It Be?

that your Majesty had a wonderful date? I went out with the English guy that I met at SuperBooty back in November. Some nice culture at the SFMOMA, a couple of pints at Dave's, a down home bar, and a fantastic meal at LuLu. He was comfortable to talk to, funny, nice to wait staff (even after his meal was severely late), has NO interest in dating and/or sleeping with a man, and I enjoyed smooching him. Would certainly go on a second date. I know he's reading so, if my manners escaped me last night, thanks a bunch for a groovy day.

My gay boyfriend dropped off his house key this morning so that I could puppysit while he's in Tahoe. He came by around 7am and put it under my doormat. I woke up around 9am, opened the front door, saw the bulge under the mat, pulled the mat back, and I couldn't help but guffaw at the key chain. In gold lettering on a black background it simply read "BITCH".

December 28, 2002

Brief Update

Oh my loyal little subjects, how I've missed the glow of a monitor, the music of the keys. I've been jonzing to blog like Louie Anderson for a doughnut. But I'm having a great break from the office and you can be sure that some shocking reading material and photos are on the way when I have more time. I checked my hosting stats, and the number of QR readers increases everyday! Be sure to tell all of your friends about my Kingdom. Or should that be Queendom?

So I just learned that my great-grandma in Illinois is touch and go, so I'm on stand-by. I told my relatives to call me before it's too late because I refuse to go to her funeral. I was fortunate enough to see my great-grandpa just before he passed year before last, and I want the same opportunity with her. It's strange because she's my "not so nice grandma" that you've heard of, preaching to me that I'm useless without a man, griping because I move so much, generally telling me how disappointed she is in me my whole life. I don't believe any of it, but you still don't want to hear it from your little old grandma. She was strong and sharp until just a few months ago, and it's heartbreaking to hear her competence decline.

Thanks a million to the art lovers who braved the elements to show Andrew your support. At the tail end of the opening Andrew was whisked away to shmooz with more artsy types, and they've got big plans in the making. Pix on the Queen's photos page.

December 19, 2002

(Sung to the tune of "If You're Happy And You Know It
Clap Your
Hands")

If we cannot find Osama, bomb Iraq.
If the markets hurt your Mama, bomb Iraq.
If the terrorists are Saudi
And the bank takes back your Audi
And the TV shows are bawdy,
Bomb Iraq.

If the corporate scandals growin', bomb Iraq.
And your ties to them are showin', bomb Iraq.
If the smoking gun ain't smokin'
We don't care, and we're not jokin'.
That Saddam will soon be croakin',
Bomb Iraq.

Even if we have no allies, bomb Iraq.
From the sand dunes to the valleys, bomb Iraq.
So to hell with the inspections;
Let's look tough for the elections,
Close your mind and take directions,
Bomb Iraq.

While the globe is slowly warming, bomb Iraq.
Yay! the clouds of war are storming, bomb Iraq.
If the ozone hole is growing,
Some things we prefer not knowing.
(Though our ignorance is showing),
Bomb Iraq.

So here's one for dear old daddy, bomb Iraq,
From his favorite little laddy, bomb Iraq.
Saying no would look like treason.
It's the Hussein hunting season.
Even if we have no reason,
Bomb Iraq.

So tonight is article344's big night. I hope the weather doesn't keep people away. This is a triumph for both of us since it's his first show and my first success as an art promoter. Cloud 9 on 7th just below Market from 5-10 tonight. Drop by!

December 18, 2002

From an email

DEMOCRAT:
You have two cows.
Your neighbor has none.
You feel guilty for being successful.
You vote people into office that put a tax on your cows, forcing
you to sell one to raise money to pay the tax. The people you
voted for then take the tax money, buy a cow and give it to your
neighbor. You feel righteous.
Barbara Streisand sings for you.

SOCIALIST:
You have two cows.
The government takes one and gives it to your neighbor. You form
a cooperative to tell him how to manage his cow.

REPUBLICAN:
You have two cows.
Your neighbor has none.
So?

COMMUNIST:
You have two cows.
The government seizes both and provides you with milk. You wait
in line for hours to get it. It is expensive and sour.

CAPITALISM, AMERICAN STYLE:
You have two cows.
You sell one, buy a bull, and build a herd of cows.

DEMOCRACY, AMERICAN STYLE:
You have two cows.
The government taxes you to the point you have to sell both to
support a man in a foreign country who has only one cow, which
was a gift from your government.

BUREAUCRACY, AMERICAN STYLE:
You have two cows.
The government takes them both, shoots one, milks the other,
pays you for the milk, and then pours the milk down the drain.

AMERICAN CORPORATION:
You have two cows.
You sell one, lease it back to yourself and do an IPO on the 2nd one.
You force the two cows to produce the milk of four cows. You are
surprised when one cow drops dead. You spin an announcement to
the analysts stating you have downsized and are reducing
expenses. Your stock goes up.

FRENCH CORPORATION:
You have two cows.
You go on strike because you want three cows.
You go to lunch. Life is good.

JAPANESE CORPORATION:
You have two cows.
You redesign them so they are one-tenth the size of an ordinary
cow and produce twenty times the milk. They learn to travel on
unbelievably crowded trains. Most are at the top of their class at cow
school.

GERMAN CORPORATION:
You have two cows.
You engineer them so they are all blond, drink lots of beer,
give excellent quality milk, and run a hundred miles an hour.
Unfortunately they also demand 13 weeks of vacation per year.

ITALIAN CORPORATION:
You have two cows but you don't know where they are. While
ambling around, you see a beautiful woman. You break for lunch.
Life is good.

RUSSIAN CORPORATION:
You have two cows.
You count them and learn you have five cows.
You have some more vodka.
You count them again and learn you have 42 cows.
You count them again and learn you have 12 cows.
You stop counting cows and open another bottle of vodka. You
produce your 10th, 5-year plan in the last 3 months. The Mafia
shows up and takes over however many cows you really have.

TALIBAN CORPORATION:
You have all the cows in Afghanistan, which are two. You don't
milk them because you cannot touch any creature's private parts.
At night when no one is looking, you have sex with both of them.
Then you kill them and claim a US bomb blew them up
while they were in the hospital.

POLISH CORPORATION:
You have two bulls.
Employees are regularly maimed and killed attempting to milk them.

FLORIDA CORPORATION:
You have a black cow and a brown cow.
Everyone votes for the best looking one.
Some of the people who like the brown one best,
vote for the black one.
Some people vote for both.
Some people vote for neither.
Some people can't figure out how to vote at all. Finally, a
bunch of guys from out-of-state tell you which is the best-looking one.

NEW YORK CORPORATION:
You have fifteen million cows.
You have to choose which one will be the leader of the herd, so you pick
some fat cow from Arkansas.

Start with a cage containing five monkeys. Inside the cage, hang a banana on
a string and place a set of stairs under it. Before long, a monkey will go
to the stairs and start to climb towards the banana. As soon as he touches
the stairs, spray all of the other monkeys with cold water.

After a while, another monkey makes an attempt with the same result all the
other monkeys are sprayed with cold water. Pretty soon, when another monkey
tries to climb the stairs, the other monkeys will try to prevent it.

Now, put away the cold water. Remove one monkey from the cage and replace it
with a new one. The new monkey sees the banana and wants to climb the
stairs. To his surprise and horror, all of the other monkeys attack him.
After another attempt and attack, he knows that if he tries to climb the
stairs, he will be assaulted.

Next, remove another of the original five monkeys and replace it with a new
one. The newcomer goes to the stairs and is attacked. The previous newcomer
takes part in the punishment with enthusiasm! Likewise, replace a third
original monkey with a new one, then a fourth, then the fifth. Every time
the newest monkey takes to the stairs, he is attacked.

Most of the monkeys that are beating him have no idea why they were not
permitted to climb the stairs or why they are participating in the beating
of the newest monkey.

After replacing all the original monkeys, none of the remaining monkeys have
ever been sprayed with cold water. Nevertheless, no monkey ever again
approaches the stairs to try for the banana. Why not? Because as far as they
know that's the way it's always been done around here.

December 17, 2002

Introspect

I had the greatest therapy session yesterday. It was the first time that I cried in front of my therapist. I've been very happy with my life for the last several years, and I've been dealing with adversity in a very healthy way, but it's because I'm so full of pain from my past, that there hasn't been any room to add any more hurt to it. A couple of months ago I decided to finally chip away and the remaining debris, and make more room for more joy. I think I just made that sound much hokier than it is. So we've been looking at my childhood, and I'm allowing myself to feel sorry for the little girl inside. The little girl who was told that if she cleaned her room she could go play, only to be told after she had done more than asked, that her mother had changed her mind. Just because. The little girl who couldn't participate in any after school programs because she had to get home and mind her younger siblings. The little girl who told countless guidance counselors about the physical abuse her mother inflicted, only to be told that children deserve to be punished when they've been bad. My mother dished many years of physical and mental abuse that I need to address rather than suppress because it has shaped how I handle intimate relationships. I don't want to be that woman who gets comfortable enough with her significant other, only to have a breakdown because she thinks he can fix it. These are certainly MY issues, and and I don't want to bring any excess baggage into the union. I'm getting a little ahead of myself considering I haven't had more than a second date in six months, but it's best to be prepared.

December 16, 2002

A Star is Born

I got the voice over job! It's not a paying gig, but it's experience, and my name will appear in the credits. Rehearsals start in January, and recording in February. That's about all I know right now, but there's supposed to be an informative email en route. I felt really good about my call back on Saturday. I read with a wonderfully animated girl, and I was just happy knowing that I did my best and enjoyed myself. They're looking for something specific and if I wasn't it, oh well. But I was it, and I WON!

p.s. So my part is of the female villager #2, I have four whole lines, and my character is ogling a prince through a window while he gets his suit tailored. I know this is a stretch for me, but I'll do some research and do my best!

It's hilarious what you find on your camera after it's been passed around a party where everyone is out of their heads. A close friend threw an invite only, formal holiday shin-dig at his place Saturday night. Between the Ambassador and the Vaporizer, there weren't many coherent speakers in the bunch, except for my sober ass. I tried making nice with the Ambassador, but it burned all the way down so I opted for H2O. I've still never gotten a clear answer on what makes up the Ambassador, but I'm certain that it's several types of liquor and the only thing it 'represents' is impaired motor skills and a massive hangover. The apartment was decorated most cozy and festive, and the nibbles were above and beyond. I should have remembered to stuff my purse with the little crab filled pastries. The cops were nice enough to stop by twice, I was witness to a guy getting his ass beat in a wrestling match by a girl, and I was introduced to pre-moistened flushable butt wipes. And to all a good night!

December 14, 2002

Prick

I called up Wells Fargo to call in payroll for the office, and the woman answers in a slightly southern 'that sweet lady next door voice', "Thank you for calling Wells Fargo this is Janie how can I...OUCH"! "Aww jeeze". "Oh my stars", "What happened"? I ask. "Oh, I just stuck myself in the leg with a needle". What, is this woman giving herself insulin while she takes payroll calls? I asked her if she was alright and she replied that she was fine. She was wrapping Christmas gifts when she leaned on a needle. Thank goodness I'm not on her list, I did NOT ask Santa for a syringe, specifically noted on the bottom of my list "An extra cookie in it for you if you DON'T bring me a syringe". I had to ask "What kind of needle"? "A knitting needle, I'm making quilts" she replies. Whew. What a relief to hear that Janie IS that sweet lady next door and not some smack scoring gutter junkie taking payroll calls to support her habit. All is right with the world.

December 11, 2002

Really Bottom Drawer

So Friday after we left the roaring 20's party, we headed over to the Pilsner on Church and Market. On the way there I got a call from this guy that I met out about a week ago. I thought he was pretty cute, but after I gave him my phone number, he called it right there on the spot. Sounds to me like some one has trust issues. Not to mention he's a smoker and one of my friends noticed he had hairy hands. The next time he called was 1:52 in the morning on Thanksgiving. He didn't leave a message and I decided then that I wasn't interested. So he calls Friday night and my friend and I decided we should invite him out. Give me a break, we had been drinking unlimited champagne for three hours. He shows up, sits next to me and I ask him if he's cool with the gay bar. He says he's totally cool with it. Hmmm. I asked him to tell me his story. He keeps it short and not too sweet by saying "I'm Matt and I'm here". "That's my story". I tried again, "What do you like to do for fun"? His answer, "Drugs". My mind is spinning, is this guy trying to turn me off. I indulge him. "What kind of drugs"? "Pretty much everything but crack". I'm disgusted. "Recreational or habitual"? Without even turning his head towards me he answers "Somewhere in between". I asked him if I was boring him and he said that he was having a great conversation with the guys around him. I blurted out that I though he may be bi and he giggled "That's yet to be determined". Now I don't mind if he's a gay guy looking for a friend, but I thought I was very clear when I approached him the week before when I said "Hey you're cute would you like to go out sometime"?, that he understood I was interested. As a straight woman. Him as a straight man. But he wasn't even nice, and before long he just disappeared. He actually called the next day and told me not to be a stranger. Right! Because I want to be the bridge person to someone who I thought was quasi-cute while they figure out their sexuality. I take a month off from the dating world, and I feel like a kid trying to jump on a merry-go-round that's spinning 100 miles an hour. Good luck with that Matt!

December 07, 2002

Really Top Drawer

It began with a lunch time trip to Vintage by the Pound on Valencia at 16th. My fun co-worker friend and I wanted to see if we could find something new for an interior design industry party with a 1920's theme. We already had things we could wear, but it's always fun to freshen up the costume wardrobe. I found the perfect style dress in the worst possible color. It was layers of satin and lace in this pinkish, lavenderish, not found on the color wheel, ick. But I saw potential. I paid $6.96 for my new project, and we headed to Walgreen's for some black Rit dye. Once back at the office, I soaked the dress in the dye in our mop bucket, stirring occasionally. After a good one hour soak, I found that it hadn't turned black, but a beautiful plum with black lace. I gave it a good washing at the laundry across the street, and began thinking of accessories.

My fun co-worker friend fashioned himself my date, arriving with a squeaky clean side part and a fetching suit. We established our characters as "Clark" and "Sally", and headed out to the speakeasy. We arrived at the giant door, whispered the password, and were welcomed to a glass of champagne and a photographer who couldn't get enough of us. The ambiance was Grand to say the least. The building houses fine antiques to begin with, so add to it a shit load of money and holiday decor, and it made for a dream setting. The foyer held a fifteen foot Christmas tree with silver glitter feathers, white orchids, and silver and blue ornaments. The main room was kept warm and bright from an oversized fireplace. Flapper dancers did the Charleston on stilts so they could be seen from any angle, and a live band set the leisurely tone. The next room was the "casino" and we were welcome to gamble with play money that had the host's picture on it. I played a little roulette, while others tried their hand at blackjack and craps. The garden out side was where the fresh oysters and shrimp were kept, if you could make you way to the table. We nibbled on hors d'eovers of duck, beef, and lamb, and the bootlegger made sure my glass was always full.

My illusion was briefly suspended while waiting for the powder room. The woman in line behind me saw "Clark" wink at me from across the room, and asked if he was my man. It was obvious she had been frequented by the bubbly fairy as she was teetering while trying to stand still, and leaned in all too close as she spoke. I answered that we were friends. She asked if I wanted him to be my man. I explained that he already has a man. She asked if I was in love with him. I replied that I loved him as a friend, but had no romantic interest. She went on to ask if we were sleeping together. I insisted again that he was in a relationship with a man, to which she snapped "So what", "I'm married and I'm a lesbian". I couldn't pass up this sociological experience and the writing material. I asked her if she felt emotionally or physically for women and, as she caressed my forearm, she said that although it's typically physical, but there's one woman in her life that she may be falling for on a deeper level. Soon enough the powder room was available and I ended our improv therapy session with, "Well good luck with that"!

On our way out the singer of the band offered me three hundred dollars for my dress. If someone wants it that bad, they can't have it! As "Clark" put it, "You can't buy style"!

December 06, 2002

"I Do My Little Turn On the Catwalk"-Right Said Fred

Can I just tell you what a hit Junk in the Trunk was last night?! There were ten designers, all with outstanding creations. The space was 52 Mason which is a crude basement, but crude in an artsy way. I got there close to five, and the actual fashion show wasn't until eight, so with time to kill I worked on my make-up and hair, nibbled on shrimp fried rice from Tu Lan, the best Vietnamese in the city, and flirted with the cutest boy I've seen in ages who was there with his freaking GIRLFRIEND! My fifth day with permission to date freely and I have to go and make goo-goo eyes with someone who's taken. Ah well, we can always make new friends right? Very handsome friends.

So fifteen minutes before the show was to start, I headed into the fitting room with the amazing get-ups that my good friend stitchbitch created. The other designers had several models to show various pieces, but since I was SB's only stuff strutter, I would be showing three outfits. The show's coordinator had me in the line-up as first, tenth, and last. What that means is that after I show the first ensemble, I have to race back to the fitting room, strip and change into the next outfit, and get back to the line of models, and act as if it were magic. I begged the other models to take their time on the platform explaining the importance of the flow, but get twenty first-time-ever-on-a-runway, "I'm only here helping a friend" types together, and you've got your Majesty barely out of her first outfit and they're calling her for the next. Fueled by a couple of Tecates and breath mints, I set the show in motion and scrambled through the crowd back to the fitting room for a Wonderwoman fast wardrobe change. Thank the Goddess for my wonderful copywriter friend who stood in as my dresser. She stripped me of my top, while I wiggled into my undies, and she dealt with my crazy bird hair accessories while I buckled my shoes. When it cam time to change into the last little number, I couldn't find one of the shoes I was supposed to wear, and the crazy bird accessory we removed left quite a nest behind. I opted to ditch the shoes, (how happy was I that I just got a long overdue pedicure on Wednesday) and put on a small, chic top hat. I had a ton of friends in the audience so it was easy playing with the crowd. All in all it was a success and now more people know how amazing stitchbitch is!

I should just start a list of time wasting links. This one should keep you busy until lunch! Simply insert any URL at the top, and watch the pornolizer transform the verbage into a dirty talkin' good time. I liked using ilovealpacas.com. Email me with your favs.